


A Million Tomorrows

by wunderlichkind



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, NSFW, PWP, celebratory smut, popcorn and haydust universe, shameless porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 01:32:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16170869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wunderlichkind/pseuds/wunderlichkind
Summary: They haven't seen each other in seven years, but their reunion sure is one to remember.





	A Million Tomorrows

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Popcorn and Haydust](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14877686) by [wunderlichkind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wunderlichkind/pseuds/wunderlichkind). 



> I wrote this as a gift to my tumblr readers after surpassing 100 followers. It is loosely based onto "Popcorn and Haydust" and it is nothing but shameless PWP.  
> Have fun and thank you for reading!!!

 

 _Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine_  
_I'll taste your strawberries, I'll drink your sweet wine_  
 _A million tomorrows shall all pass away_  
 _'Ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today_

_(Today – John Denver)_

 

Ian hadn’t known what to expect when he had entered the dark auditorium. In fact, he had felt a little idiotic – it had been years, after all. And to come here, to a place and a show he would have never visited, were it not for the name on the billboard outside... A name he hadn’t spoken in over seven years. A name he had barely dared to dream of.

Now, that the curtain was drawn again and the lights turned back on, Ian sat in his allotted seat starstruck and unsure what to do with himself.

 _God, the man hadn’t aged a minute_ , he thought, forcing himself up on his feet. He would walk out into the lobby and let his body decide, he resolved, giving himself a few more minutes to accept the decision he knew deep down he had already made.

Sure enough, his steps steered him towards the backstage area rather than his subway stop and Ian didn’t question it anymore – he had come here. It might not have been an entirely conscious decision, but if he was honest with himself, he knew what he wanted.

He still hesitated for a moment before entering the stage door, taking stock of all that he was now as opposed to how they’d known each other all those years ago. He had grown into his body, less lanky and awkward now, his features more defined. He had gained a few scars and gotten a few tattoos, he had let his hair grow out. He had lived through his share of disappointments and successes. All in all, he thought, he didn’t fare too badly.

„I’m looking for Fergus?“ he quietly asked the first person he saw after entering the stage door, a little breathless in anticipation. „Down that corridor, second door on the left.“ Ian nodded in thanks, quickly moving in the indicated direction.

Reaching the second door on the left, he gave a quick knock, thankful for the muffled answering call coming fast – no time to second guess himself again, entering right away.

Fergus was standing in front of a mirror, his back turned to the door, evidently getting rid of his stage make-up. Ian was once again struck by how little he had changed; his brown locks still shiny as ever, his slender frame still carrying the elegant force of an artiste.

„It’s been a while,“ he said by way of greeting, making Fergus turn towards him. „Yet ye look exactly the same.“

„ _Merci beaucoup_ ,“ Fergus answered and his piercing stare dissolved into a smile of recognition. „Can’t say the same for you, though, _Ian_.“

The sound of his name on Fergus’ tongue still had the same effect as seven years ago – it made a shiver run down Ian’s spine, settling deep in his gut as a low vibration, rousing all his skin and bones to a state of alert wakefulness.

Fergus moved from where he had been leaning against the make-up table until he was standing right in front of Ian, close enough to reach out and touch – which he did, his index finger carefully tracing the wolf tattoo peaking out of the neck of Ian’s henley. Ian held his breath, releasing it slowly when Fergus enveloped him in a short hug, stating „It’s good to see you! What have you been up to?“

Ian raised his shoulders in a non-committal expression. „This and that... Been helping out my Da and uncle on our farm for a few years before I’ve decided to attend uni after all. Studying anthropology at Goldsmith’s now.“ He nervously untied and retied his hair, making the messy bun even messier in the process.

Fergus regarded him with a curious look, a mix of surprise and appreciation. „Anthropholgy, huh?“

„Yeah, I’ve done a lot of research on indigenous tribes of East America...“ Ian trailed off, uncomfortable being the sole focus of their conversation. „What about ye, how did ye get here from the circus?“ he quickly asked.

„Not too pleasant a story,“ Fergus sighed, gesturing towards the dark red, velvet couch in the corner. „Can I offer you a drink?“ he interrupted his train of talking to open the door to a mini fridge, waving a beer bottle in Ian’s general direction.

„Thank ye.“ Ian took the bottle from Fergus and went to sit down on the couch, waiting for Fergus to join him and continue with his story.

The narrow couch didn’t permit any space between the two of them, the length of their thighs just barely touching. Fergus clinked his bottle against Ian’s, taking a long drag of beer before picking up where he had left off. „I fell off the rope... About two years after we’ve last met. Been dealing with chronic back issues ever since, so I had to quit the circus.“

„God, I’m sorry,“ Ian muttered, a fleeting image of Fergus’ on the tightrope popping up in his head, a memory of pure dedication, of a body tense with exertion, nearly flying with purpose and happiness.

Fergus waved it off – he had either made his peace with it or didn’t want to reopen old wounds. „I’ve been here and there ever since. Done some performing arts, like what you’ve seen today, worked as a gym teacher in a high school, I even briefly ventured into porn...“

„I’ve seen some of that, too,“ Ian admitted, the tips of his ears burning with the confession, but Fergus’ teasing smile proved it to have been a risk worth taking. „Oh?“ Fergus said, one eyebrow lifted, his gaze burning hot on Ian’s skin.

„Aye.“ Ian reached out a hand, slowly, checking the other’s reaction, softly twisting one of Fergus’ locks around his finger. The word was rough on his tongue and he distractedly noticed his use of the Scottish expression, a flare up of his accent that had softened considerably over the course of his time in London.

„Is that why you’ve come here then?“ Fergus teased in what was barely a whisper into the small space between them. „Because you’ve liked my porn?“

Ian shrugged, playing along. „It definitely roused a few memories,“ he grinned and it didn’t escape him how Fergus’ tongue darted out to wet his lips. The low vibration at the base of his spine took up force, growing into a delicious pressure.

„Good memories,“ Fergus agreed, and in an afterthought added, „damn me if I ever regretted travelling on more than when I had to leave you after just one shag.“  
„Would ye like to rectify that?“ Ian asked, want cursing through his body in a liquid stream of heat now, all second thoughts abandoned. He had only drank half of his beer, and yet he felt drunk, riding the high of fearlessness and arousal.

„Fuck yeah, I would,“ Fergus breathed, discarding of his own beerbottle and grabbing Ian’s hand still in his hair to pull him onto his lap. Ian went eagerly, immediately dipping his head to search for Fergus’ mouth, and then their lips and tongues met in an open-mouthed kiss, a kiss much slower than Ian had anticipated, yet all the more intense.

Fergus’ hands were in Ian’s hair, untying the bun Ian had retied just minutes ago, burying themselves in the loose mess of light brown strands, tugging lightly. He tasted like beer and cigarettes, but also inexplicably like popcorn, and Ian felt like it was their first kiss all over again – just as hot, just as long awaited, just as intense.

He moved in Fergus’ lap, grinding against him, and Fergus groaned, breaking their kiss. „ _Merde_ , you still work me up like I’m a teenage boy,“ he panted, watching Ian move against him. Instead of giving an answer, Ian just kissed him again, hand buried in the hair at the nape of his neck, angling his face up to deepen the kiss. The warm slide of tongue against tongue had him dangle at the edge of crazy, his mind a barely contained haze of lust, his hips moving of their own accord.

„Fuck,“ he rasped, parting the other’s lips when he felt Fergus buck up to meet his movements and Fergus seized the opportunity to let his lips wander over Ian’s jaw down his neck, licking and sucking and nipping.

„ _Diah_ , do you even know how many wet dreams you starred in?“ he rambled, raising a chuckle out of Fergus, but pressing on, the words tumbling over his lips like the confession they were – a floodgate opened, and want and need; lust, accumulated over the years spilling out all at once. „I would imagine you in those tight leather trousers you wore when we had sex, that day before you left, or smiling up at me on your knees...“ He broke off for a second, breathing erratically at Fergus’ ministrations to his earlobe. „And then when I discovered your porn... Oh God. It was pure luck, I couldn’t believe my eyes, thought I was imagining it at first...“ Fergus chuckled again, the vibration sending shivers over Ian’s skin.

„I don’t think I left my appartement the entire weekend,“ Ian confessed, sighing at the scrape of Fergus’ stubble against the sensitive skin of his neck.

„Get up,“ Fergus ordered and pushed against Ian’s chest, his other hand already flying to undo his belt buckle. Ian scrambled to his feet. His grip travelled from Fergus’ nape to the front of his T-shirt, pulling Fergus up after him, stealing another deep kiss while Fergus fumbled with his fly. When he finally managed to get it open, Ian stepped out of his jeans, his hands travelling north, up under Fergus’ shirt, greedy for every bit of hot, soft to the touch bare skin they could reach. He flicked his thumb against a hardened nipple, aching to taste it with his tongue and ellicited a throaty sound from Fergus.

Impatiently, Fergus gripped the hem of his shirt and made quick work of it, then quickly gripping Ian by the shoulders and turning them around. A second time he shoved against Ian’s chest, sending him back onto the couch and dropping to his knees in front of it.

„This what you dreamed of?“ he teased, grinning up at Ian, hands braced on his bare thighs and Ian’s breath caught and he nodded, because of course it was exactly what he had dreamed of, except it was better.

Fergus dipped his head, his back curving down prettily, his ass just a little out of Ian’s reach. Ian didn’t know where to look, whether to look at all or if the onslaught of senses was too much for him to handle, too intense for this to last as long as he wanted it to. He dropped his head back onto the sofa’s backrest and closed his eyes.

He felt Fergus’ breath ghost over his cock, making it twitch, then the light scrape of his underwear as Fergus dragged it down over his thighs. His hand found its way into Fergus’ hair, tugging lightly at the first touch of tongue against cock. He was dimly aware of cursing and fleetingly thought of all the blasphemy he was committing tonight.

All conscious thought was sent into the stratosphere the second Fergus’ hot mouth wrapped around him. It was pure bliss, the warm, wet heat enveloping him impossibly making him even harder, the slide of skin against skin a delicious sin.

He opened his eyes to raise his head and take in the scene – Fergus on his knees, pink-kissed lips stretched tight around his cock, looking up at him through long eyelashes. It was an image straight out of his most secret fantasies and Ian gave an involuntarily hard tug to Fergus’ hair, coaxing a moan out of him that vibrated up Ian’s cock, settling right beneath his balls, threatening to send him into oblivion.

He grasped Fergus’ chin, the other hand on his own cock, thumb stroking over Fergus’ bottom lip. „Stop,“ he pleaded, locking eyes with him. „I want to come from you fucking me.“

„ _Parbleu!_ “ Fergus exclaimed, dragging himself up on the couch and capturing Ian’s lips in a searing kiss that’s all teeth and tongue and the taste of Ian. „You’re gonna be the death of me. Walking in here like it hasn’t been seven years, dirty talking me onto my knees in a matter of minutes and now this...“ He trailed off, grasping at Ian’s shirt until Ian lost patience and took it off himself, now sitting naked on the red velvet sofa, watching Fergus take off his pants.

For a fleeting little moment he wondered how many other naked bodies this sofa had seen, the soft fabric warm and comfortable against his skin, but he soon got distracted by the sight of Fergus’ cock, flushed red with arousal, leaking and nestled against his thigh and he decided it wasn’t of any importance to him anyway. What mattered was the here and now, today. They could deal with the yesterdays and the tomorrows later. Or choose to not deal with them at all.

Ian reached out to take Fergus in his hand, cherishing the weight of him, giving him a few experimental strokes that caused Fergus buck against him, then cover Ian’s hand with his own and take it off his cock.

„Turn around. On your knees,“ he commanded, his low voice resonating deep in Ian’s belly, making him oblige immediately. He anticipated Fergus’ reaction a split second before it came, Fergus’ voice rough, sounding completely wrecked.

„ _Merdasse!_ Fuck me,“ he called out, the fingers of his left hand gripping Ian’s ass tight, his right hand tapping hard against the base of the black butt plug. „You’ve been wearing that all night? For me?“

Ian felt himself blushing again, burying his face in the backrest of the couch, effectively muffling his moan and Fergus’ continued assault on the plug. „I wanted to be prepared in case this was actually going to happen,“ he finally admitted, a barely audible murmur against the soft fabric of the sofa cushions.

But Fergus had apparently heard him, for he bent over Ian’s back, pressing soft kisses to his shoulders and neck, whispering praises in the same low voice. „So hot... So incredibly good for me... God, to imagine you sitting through the performance spread open like this...“

Ian was shivering from anticipation at that point, every word, every touch of Fergus’ lips a nearly unbearable tease. He felt every muscle and every nerve in his body, taut to the point of snapping, and at the same time couldn’t focus on a single one of them, his brain clouded with nothing but Fergus; his sound, his smell, his touch.

It was almost a relief when Fergus’ tugged at the plug and in one swift motion replaced it with his fingers. A relief because finally – a sensation to match his heightened senses, but not a relief at all, because it only intensified his feelings.

„Yes, _diah_ , please, Fergus...“

He felt Fergus’ leaning over, heard some fumbling but was too distracted by his slowly pumping fingers to really focus on it. Then the tear of a condom wrapper and Fergus sighing his own partial relief and for a second the gaping absence of Fergus’ fingers before the tip of his cock nudged Ian’s entrance.

He didn’t want slow. He didn’t want careful. Ian’s lust had been building for a long time, his courage always short behind. It had taken him weeks to bring up the nerve to come here and there he was, in reach of everything his wildest dreams could conjure up. And he took it. He moved back against Fergus immediately, filling himself with his cock, setting a dangerously fast pace.

Moaning in unison, they both set about chasing the peak, all inhibitions forgotten, all effort at taking their time discarded. They both knew it wasn’t gonna take long now and they didn’t need it to. They needed to feel. They needed to release the pressure that had been building since Ian had entered the small dressing room. They needed to rebuild a connection that had been long lost but never forgotten.

Fergus reached for Ian’s neglected cock, stroking him in time with his increasingly erratic thrusts and Ian pressed himself impossibly closer, urging Fergus on to go even faster, even harder still.

They crashed over the edge within seconds of each other, orgasms hitting with the force of the elements, shaking them to their very cores, disintegrating them and reassembling them, leaving them in a heap of tangled limbs and heaving chests, stray locks of hair pasted to sweaty foreheads.

„Oh,“ Ian breathed after a while, starstruck and at a loss for words. „Yeah,“ Fergus answered, understanding perfectly well. „You know,“ he added after a while, „I’m happy you came to see me.“

Ian gave a dry laugh at that, so exhausted he couldn’t even feel a sliver of embarrassment at his assault on the other anymore. „Yeah, me too,“ he answered, his hand tracing patterns through Fergus’ happy trail.

„We shouldn’t wait so long before we do this again this time.“


End file.
